My Other Half
by Matt Mimi
Summary: Wanda and Pietro think of each other. Please r/r, though this is not neccessarily for the faint of heart.


A/N: I like very odd fics, and this one fits the description. This is a little Wanda/Pietro-ish, so those of you who don't like such things should go away.  
  
Disclaimer: I don't own X-Men: Evolution. Most greiviously.  
  
My Other Half  
By: Crystal, aka Matt & Mimi  
  
A soft, hesitant whimper filled the otherwise-still air in the Brotherhood of Bayville Boarding House. The girl held a pillow close to her chest. Tears streamed from tightly shut eyes onto another pillow, this one underneath the girl's head. Pietro noted absently the stark contrast of the white pillow to Wanda's dark hair.  
  
This was a habit the boy had seemed to pick up since his sister had been brought to the boarding house. He never needed much sleep anyhow, so he just sat in his sister's room and watched her sleep. Her dreams were quite obviously never peaceful, but she always managed to sleep through the night. Pietro supposed that it was some sort of mental complex that kept him there at night. He had to watch her at night, to make sure that she was really there, and that she was safe.  
  
It had always felt to Pietro that something was missing when Wanda wasn't around. Like some vital part of him had up and disappeared. Wanda was his twin, his other half, and it was of his opinion that they were never meant to be away from each other. But Fate had a cruel sense of humor, and had ripped the two away from each other because of the very thing that made their family special: Mutant powers.  
  
It wasn't like Wanda's powers hadn't scared the devil out of Pietro. They had, there was no doubt about it. But in the less than half a second before the fear had kicked in, when he'd seen Wanda at the door, he'd felt like everything was finally okay. Then a deep fear for his life had emerged, and her name had come out of his mouth like some strangled cry.  
  
In that brief moment their eyes had met, before Wanda had used her powers to throw a ski at his head, he had felt the anger coming from her, an anger that had haunted the boy's own dreams some nights. That anger and a sense of wondering, why had Pietro been allowed to stay, why had Wanda been given these dangerous powers? What had she done to deserve being taken away?  
  
"Wanda..." Pietro whispered softly, forlornly, as she whimpered once more.  
  
***  
  
Wanda groaned slightly as the first rays of sunlight peeked from her window and spilled onto her face. She opened her eyes and stretched lazily, thinking not for the first time how glad she was that she could move around like this, and that sunlight came into her bedroom. This was a vastly superior difference between the mental institution and this boarding house.  
  
As Wanda looked over to her door, she felt a surge of anger burn through her. Pietro had evidently, at some point during the night, come into her room, and had fallen asleep. How *dare* he be so presumptuous as to think he was allowed in here?  
  
Still, in his sleep, she was reminded of what things were like when the two were little, and still together. Pietro had always tried so hard to be like Father that it was almost painful. Yet in his sleep, he had always looked like some pale angel and not the impassive man he tried so hard to be. When they were younger, Wanda had always enjoyed waking up Pietro with a kiss, and watch as the boy had blinked slowly, disoriented. At that point, Wanda would giggle, and Pietro would complain loudly.  
  
"Can't you think of a better way to wake me up if you're going to be such a pest?" he would whine.  
  
"Nope," Wanda would say with mock innocence. "This is the only way that works." And the two would laugh, sharing the love of two people who were very dear to each other.  
  
But shortly after that, Pietro would affect Father's ways, and the angelic illusion would be shattered. But Wanda had always treasured the mornings, when Pietro was hers.  
  
"And now you're always your father's son, aren't you?" Wanda whispered aloud, the feeling of nostalgia replaced by anger. "A monster."  
  
*Pietro did try to connect with you, though...* a voice in her head whispered. *Remember what happened in the bathroom?*  
  
Wanda closed her eyes as the scene replayed in her mind.  
  
"It looks good," Pietro had said of her new haircut, in a painfully shy, hesitant way that did not suit him at all.  
  
And he *had* told her that he thought that what Magneto had done to her was wrong. Even so, he'd stood up for the man.  
  
"Maybe you should try to see it from his point of view?" he'd suggested weakly.  
  
"Monster's don't *have* a point of view!" she'd said angrily. "And you're just like him!"  
  
With that, the girl had stormed off.  
  
"You're just like him..." Wanda said again, this time softly. She reached over to the boy's hair and brushed a stray lock into place. "Aren't you?"  
  
Wanda sighed. "You do look just like an angel..."  
  
Wanda closed her eyes, and kissed Pietro on the lips, just like when they were children. She laced her fingers into his and just let the simple, child-like feelings of yester-year wash over her for a moment.   
  
But when she opened her eyes, Pietro was staring back at her, lookind wide-eyed and surprised. Wanda backed away violently, snatching her hand away from the boy.  
  
"Get out of my room," she hissed angrily. Pietro complied all too quickly, and Wanda leaned against the door and let out a ragged sigh. It had felt, for just a moment, like they were children again, and everything was sweet and simple, and they belonged to each other only, the rest of the world be damned. It had felt good.  
  
"But we're not children anymore," Wanda said softly, placing her hand on the door forlornly. "And you're not my Pietro anymore. You're not my other half... My other half abandoned me..."   
  
And Wanda cried.  
  
***  
  
Pietro, too, leaned against the door, but on the other side. He wasn't aware that his hand was paralleling hers on the door. All he was aware of was his own anguish.  
  
"I can't believe I fell asleep!" he berated himself mentally. "There's no way the door will be unlocked after this!"  
  
She'd kissed him, Pietro recalled, like when they were kids. But back then, her good-morning kisses had never left him feeling so confused inside. They had just been a way to show affection for each other. But they were older, and things were never so simple when you got older. The curse of growing older was that things lost their simplicity.  
  
Pietro missed the simplicity. But simplicity had left his life when a good, decent girl was put into a mental institution because her father could not control her any longer. And simplicity had a way of not returning.  
  
"Will things ever be so simple again, Wanda?" he whispered, barely aware he was even talking. "Will I ever be able to just share the mornings with my other half again?"  
  
That night, Wanda's door remained unlocked. 


End file.
